DY , thy lofty brow is fair,
Beauty's sign and seal are there;
And thy lip is like the
Closing round the bee's repose;
And thine eye is like a star,
But blue as the sapphires' are.
Beautiful patrician!
Wearest on thy stately
All that suits a noble race,
All of high-born maiden's grace,--Who is there could look on
And doubt thy nobility?
Round thee satin robe is flung,
Pearls upon thy neck are hung,
And upon thy arm of
Rubies like red sun-gifts glow;
Yet thou wearest pearl and
As thou hadst forgotten them.--'Tis a step, but made to treadO'er Persian web, or flower's head,--Soft hand that might only
In the broider'd silken glove,--Cheek unused to ruder
Than what hot-house rose might bear,--One whom nature only
To be queen of the tournament,--Courtly fete, and lighted hall,--Grace and ornament of all!
